


Sweat up Your Sheets

by zarabithia



Category: Captain America (2011), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Non-Explicit Underage Reference, Request Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 14:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve always sketches while he watches over Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweat up Your Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt of "paint me" at tumblr.

“Let me see,” Bucky commanded, and if his voice still trembled from the nightmares that had woken him up for the second time that night, Steve was nice enough not to mention it.

“They’re just sketches,” Steve told him, carefully trying to ignore the way that Bucky’s hands straightened out sheets that had been wrinkled by his thrashing. He waited for Bucky to reach for the sketchpad before he handed it over.

Steve shifted then, the small bedroom chair creaking beneath his weight in its spot beside the bed. Bucky thought of the chairs that had always seemed to threaten to swallow Steve whole, and he wondered what kind of man it made him that he would have given anything to go back to those days.

Probably the kind of man that was so easily made into a weapon by the enemy, Bucky supposed.

“Don’t know why you’re so shy about showing me your sketches, Rogers. Not like I haven’t seen your dirty pictures of me before.”

Nostalgia made him say it, but if pressed, he could always blame it on Steve’s new teammates. Not Sam or Sharon or Natalia, but the other ones - the ones who were so certain that Steve was the oldest living virgin that they’d never believe the way his lips curved into an immediate smile at the memories that Bucky was referring to.

“You don’t have to remind me, Buck. That’s one of my favorite memories.”

Bucky glanced down at the sketch his nightmare had interrupted. Bucky wasn’t an artist, but even he could marvel at the way that Steve’s technique had improved over the years. Back when they’d been clueless 15-year-olds, Steve’s lines and naked bodies had been hesitant and unsure.

These days, the lines were confident and clear. Even when the lines of Bucky’s torso gave way to the lines of his metal arm, no uncertainty could be found. Steve didn’t draw it any different than he drew Bucky’s _real_ arm.

Bucky wanted to point that out, and wanted to argue that he _should_ have drawn it differently. He wanted to point out that Steve should be able to see all the bad that Bucky had stored up, just the way that 15-year-old Steve should have been able to see that Bucky was willing and ready to kiss him senseless.

Instead he said, “If they’re such good memories, Rogers, what do you say about reenacting them?”

“Are you sure? Would you rather talk about - “

“No. Trust me on this, there are million other things I’d rather do with my mouth right now than talk,” Bucky interrupted. “And if I’m going to sweat up your sheets, I’d rather it come from something good and not something as predictable as nightmares.”

“Okay,” Steve answered agreeably. He stood and pushed the chair out of the way, before he accepted Bucky’s invitation.

Somewhere between the first kiss and the second, the sketchpad found its way to the floor beside the bed.


End file.
